


Improvisation (means making it up as you go along)

by lastdream



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Bad BDSM Etiquette, Canon Era, Hurt/Comfort, Kink Negotiation, Light Bondage, M/M, No Aftercare, Subdrop, it ends well i promise, minor safeword use, that is to say BDSM done by people who have no clue what they're doing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2015-04-17
Packaged: 2018-03-23 09:32:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3763111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lastdream/pseuds/lastdream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the dangers of having sex with power exchange in a time with no Google to tell you how it's done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Improvisation (means making it up as you go along)

**Author's Note:**

> So the subdrop isn't *terribly* explicit, and when I say safeword I mean the equivalent of 'yellow' on the traffic light system... The tags are mostly to be safe. 
> 
> Still, don't try this at home, kids. Research is your friend.
> 
> For this kink meme prompt: http://makinghugospin.livejournal.com/14280.html?thread=14481608#t14481608

“More of that, Grantaire,” Enjolras said, with his voice midway between instructing and pleading. The sight of Grantaire kneeling down before him, looking up adoringly even as he accepted Enjolras’ cock into his mouth, struck a chord deep in Enjolras and made him tense with desire. Dutifully, Grantaire opened his mouth wider and took in as much as he could. What he could take was more than half, and that ought to have been enough for Enjolras.

Instead, he found himself desiring more. Enjolras imagined gripping Grantaire’s hair, directing him further down and moving his head according to his own whims. Enjolras imagined using his hands to hold Grantaire still and simply using his mouth, as hard as he might his ass. Enjolras imagined tying Grantaire’s hands back so that he could not fight it.

Enjolras imagined Grantaire not wanting to fight it, not resisting even as Enjolras pushed into his throat, and he came helplessly into Grantaire’s mouth. It was several moments before he realized what he had done.

“My apologies, Grantaire. I had meant to warn you.” A lie; he had wanted to see Grantaire take his ejaculate and be made to swallow it down, but he could hardly admit that to his lover. It was debasing, humiliating. Enjolras of all people could not demand— could not even ask— such a thing of his lover. He reached for a rag to allow Grantaire to spit it out. Finding one, he turned back to offer it to Grantaire.

“No need,” said Grantaire. His voice was hoarse and his face was oddly flushed. It was not just arousal, Enjolras realized. It was embarrassment; he had swallowed after all. Enjolras shuddered.

“You did not have to,” he insisted half-heartedly. “Do not think that I expect you to—“

“That is exactly it,” Grantaire mumbled.

“What do you mean?” Enjolras looked at him appraisingly, trying to understand what was causing the timid, shamed expression on his face.

“That is, I like to imagine that—“ Grantaire’s throat worked for a moment, “that you do expect me to swallow. That you expect me to take what you give and be grateful for it, even— especially when it is… degrading.” Enjolras’ pulse was quick to respond, even as his cock still softened between his legs.

“You… enjoy that?” he said cautiously. He did not dare to hope that he understood Grantaire correctly.

“Do you never wish—“ Grantaire broke off. Enjolras did not know how to encourage him to go on, so he simply waited for him to speak. It took many moments, but eventually Grantaire licked his lips and continued, “wish that you could give yourself over? That all decisions could be entrusted to another? Or that this— this other might be harsh, or cruel, without ever intending true unkindness?”

Enjolras felt his mouth go dry as he understood Grantaire’s meaning. “I— I have not wanted to give over,” he began softly, as though the words might avoid Grantaire’s hearing in the room silent but for their breathing.

“Of course you have not,” said Grantaire bitterly. “You are our chief to the very ends of your fingers, no part of you could bear to bend to another’s will. Forget what I have said, it matters not.”

“Grantaire!” The sharp tone made him look up again, and for the first time in minutes Enjolras realized that he was still standing above the kneeling Grantaire. Immediately he went down beside him and brought their faces very close together. “I have not wanted to give, because I have wanted to take.”

“Ange…” Grantaire breathed, his eyes wide. His mouth opened and closed twice before he asked in a small voice, “Would you be willing to take me?”

“Grantaire, you know I love you. I have always wanted to take you. I did not think you had a… complimentary desire.” Enjolras hesitated. He wanted as he had never wanted before, but still he was cautious. “But what I desire is much to ask of anyone. How can we be sure that it is not too much?” Grantaire’s eyes took on a desperate cast.

“Please, Enjolras. We can— we can talk ourselves in circles and half to death if you wish, only let us try this, please. I’ll do anything you want,” he promised. “Please.”

Enjolras looked at the vulnerable need in his lover’s eyes and relented. He ran affectionate fingers through Grantaire’s curls and pressed a kiss to his brow.

“Alright,” he said with a little smile. “Come to bed and we shall talk ourselves half to death.”

They stood together, and Enjolras experienced embarrassing realization once more. Grantaire was still aroused, and Enjolras had forgotten. Flushing, he reached for Grantaire’s cock now, but Grantaire swatted his hand away.

“I do not want you to,” Grantaire said, with color in his cheeks.

“Have I— is something wrong?” asked Enjolras with a frown.

“No, I… I do not need to come to crisis. I do not always want to.” Grantaire looked intently into space, and Enjolras could not tell if he was searching for words or avoiding Enjolras’ gaze. Perhaps both. “I feel as though… it is not my place to decide. Perhaps you cannot understand.”

“I want to try,” Enjolras encouraged. They sat down on the bed together, but Grantaire was still looking down and away. “Explain it to me.”

“It is a fantasy— You control my actions, my decisions, what I am allowed to do… I must ask if I wish to climax, and you sometimes say no. Because if you always say yes, I will forget that you can say no. You are… asserting your control, reminding me of it. I enjoy the denial.”

“I like that,” said Enjolras, slightly hoarse. To give and take away to suit his own desire, to see Grantaire frustrated but submissively accepting… it was a heady thought. “We might do that, sometimes.”

“Thank you,” said Grantaire. His cock was still hard, still standing proudly in his lap, but apart from a little restless shift, he was ignoring it admirably.

“You say you enjoy being denied, but what would you enjoy being given?” Enjolras wondered.

“Enjolras?”

“Even just now, I…” he dropped his own eyes. This was not a thing to tell one’s lover, surely? “I imagined giving you more than you could take. I imagined holding you in place and… to own it, taking your mouth.”

“Enjolras,” said Grantaire in an entirely different tone. His own shame seemed to be forgotten in sudden arousal as he darted forward and kissed Enjolras hard. When Enjolras returned the movement, his mouth fell open instantly, desperately. “Please,” he breathed into Enjolras’ mouth. “Please be rough with me. You could slap me or scratch me or— or beat me if you wanted—“ 

“No!” Enjolras cried out reflexively. “Beat you, Grantaire— how could you want me to—?“

“I’m sorry.” Grantaire’s voice was small. He was suddenly withdrawn, hunched in on himself, gaze ashamedly returned to his own lap. His cock had gone completely soft. Enjolras moved forward to make amends and Grantaire flinched away.

“I— Grantaire, can I touch you?” A long silence passed before Grantaire nodded. Enjolras pressed himself along Grantaire’s side and put his arm around him. “I’m so sorry, my reaction was inexcusable. I do not reject you, my love. I… I cannot say that I understand, but I do accept you.” Enjolras felt helpless without the words to mend the situation, and he hated the sensation.

“It’s alright,” said Grantaire, exhaling heavily. 

“Explain it to me?” Enjolras encouraged, echoing his earlier words.

“It is…” Grantaire cleared his throat and spoke again, and this time his voice was stronger. “It is a way that you control me. You make me do what you wish and punish me for doing wrong. And I… I like the pain.”

“Is that something you need? I do not know that I can inflict pain for pain’s sake, but I could try if you need that,” he said anxiously. He hoped this would not break their tentative agreement.

“No, Enjolras, I would not make you— it is not a need.” Grantaire paused, licked his lips, relaxed a little into Enjolras’ arms. “Only, do not be gentle with me.”

“I will not,” Enjolras promised. Another thought from his earlier fantasy returned to him; in his mind, he had tied Grantaire’s hands to keep him from resisting. “How if I tied you in place?” he asked, not sure how he would be received. He imagined being pushed away just as he had done to Grantaire, and though he did not exactly fear the same, he felt his heart shrink with sympathetic fear.

“Tie me so I cannot get away, and I may climax whether or not you put a hand on me,” said Grantaire. Enjolras smiled a little.

“Have you any other requests?” he asked.

“Why, have you none?”

“Several, probably,” said Enjolras seriously. “But no more that come to mind just now.”

“Would it… would it offend your Republican sensibilities too much if I asked for degradation, in words?” Grantaire spoke tentatively, and Enjolras realized he was expecting to be pushed away as before. To alleviate the doubt, he drew Grantaire closer than ever.

“How do you mean?”

“I might call you Master—“ Grantaire’s eyes flicked upwards to see Enjolras’ reaction, which must have been showing on his face, because he quickly added, “or Sir, at least, and you could call me boy. Remind me that you control me. And...”

“Sir,” Enjolras conceded. “Go on, boy.” He was testing for his own reaction, which was better than he had expected. He smiled in encouragement.

“You might also tell me that I am no better than a whore in your bed, that I am there for your pleasure and not my own. That I am a slut, that I am desperate…”

“I might,” said Enjolras slowly. “Perhaps we could table that item for further discussion? I do not want to say no out of hand, as my feelings are… unclear. You mock my Republicanism, but it is very important to me, at least.”

“Yes, of course, I did not mean—“ Grantaire took a slow breath. “If you change your mind, I already accept it.”

“Alright,” agreed Enjolras. He looked over the chart he was composing in his mind, sorting through the various things they wanted and wondering what was missing. “If you don’t have anything else you want right now, we ought to sort out what we do not want.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin,” Grantaire said, sounding baffled. “This has never been more than mere fantasy, and in fantasy there can be no mistake.”

“Perhaps instead we should have a way to call a halt, on account of such a mistake.” Enjolras bit his lip in thought. “A word, perhaps.”

“But what if I do not want you to halt? What if I only wish you not to repeat the mistake?” Grantaire’s tone was equal parts seriousness and his usual humorous dissent. “What then, Enjolras?”

“Two words, then!” said Enjolras, with the air of one throwing his hands up. “You can choose them.”

“What freedom you allow me, sir,” teased Grantaire. Enjolras was suddenly distracted by a resurgence of arousal. Perhaps the titles were a better idea than he had originally thought. “What say you to dusk and night?” Grantaire asked after a minute. “They are gradations, you see. We try to stay in the daytime, and call an alert when the light starts leaving.”

“Clever,” said Enjolras appreciatively. He kissed his lover gently, and then more roughly. “I can hardly believe we are actually going to do this,” he confessed.

“Nor I,” said Grantaire. “Is there anything else we need sort out tonight? I’m tired, sir.”

“Nothing that I can think of.” Enjolras pulled Grantaire back onto the bed, arranging them so they faced each other on their sides. “Let’s get some sleep, and we’ll try this another day.” He paused to kiss Grantaire soundly. “I can’t wait to take you,” he breathed.

“I can’t wait to be yours,” Grantaire murmured back. Before long they both fell asleep.

 

A few days later, Enjolras returned to their shared quarters in the evening. Grantaire was kneeling on the floor to paint a canvas that leaned against the wall, and he had removed his shirts to prevent stains. 

Enjolras took a slow breath to calm himself, trying to push back the possessive urge that rose when he saw his lover half-naked on his knees. Then, he realized that he did not have to. Now was as good a time as any. He walked quietly up behind Grantaire.

“Are you terribly busy, boy?” he asked, tacking the pejorative on at the end to make his intentions clear. Grantaire looked up with wide, startled eyes and smiled.

“No sir,” he said, and abandoned his brushes to a jar of water. He moved to stand up, and Enjolras stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder. Enjolras was enjoying the sight of Grantaire on his knees far too much to allow him to rise. “Sir?”

His uncertainty made Enjolras unsure in turn. “Is this alright?” he asked, gesturing to their positions.

“All sunny, sir,” Grantaire replied. “I’ll let you know if it’s not, I promise. Don’t worry about me.”

“Because you’re not the point of this,” Enjolras said, understanding. He knew it was untrue— Grantaire’s happiness and enjoyment in this was very much the point, but Grantaire’s fantasies had been clear. He would be happiest if the whole purpose seemed to be Enjolras’ pleasure. So Enjolras stepped a little closer, shifting his hips to make the growing bulge in his trousers obvious. “Hands behind your back,” he instructed. “Be a good boy and don’t do anything unless I tell you to."

Instantly, Grantaire clasped one wrist in the other hand to restrain himself and then looked up, with his wide, vulnerable eyes asking for direction. Everything about the image sent hot sparks up Enjolras’ spine.

“Mouth open,” he instructed, hoping to see that ready obedience again. The response was immediate and heady. Enjolras felt a sudden, unfamiliar desire to chasten Grantaire for his evident need, but he elected to ignore it for the time being.

There was another kind of thrill in making Grantaire stay in that same submissive attitude, virtually ignored, as Enjolras pulled out his cock and began to stroke it leisurely. Grantaire’s eyes were pleading, but he was obedient and remained silent and still.

At last Enjolras took mercy on him and slipped two fingers into his waiting mouth. He stroked over Grantaire’s tongue and the roof of his mouth and then thrust in deeper. It was a hint at his future plans, and it made Grantaire moan softly. Enjolras didn’t acknowledge it for several long seconds, simply enjoying the way he controlled everything about this situation. Grantaire was submitting to him so perfectly.

“Something you want, boy?” Enjolras asked at last. He withdrew his fingers to give Grantaire space to speak.

“Yes, sir. Please let me suck you, sir, I’ll make it good, I promise. I’ll be good for you.” Seeing Enjolras’ studiously even expression, Grantaire’s voice slipped into a plaintive whine. “Please, sir, please—“

“No,” said Enjolras. He wanted it more than he could say, but the helpless expression produced by this denial was even better. For a long moment, he simply enjoyed Grantaire’s disappointment, and then he relieved it. “You’ll get my cock in your mouth, boy, but it’ll be more in the order of irrumatio than fellatio.”

Grantaire made a soft sound, and if his mouth hadn’t already been open Enjolras was sure his jaw would have dropped. He looked— he looked wanting. Enjolras ran gentle fingers through Grantaire’s hair.

“How desperate you are,” he murmured, hard words in a soft tone. “Look at you, you’re hard in your trousers and I’ve barely touched you.” Enjolras paused a moment to thread his fingers deep in the dark curls. “And I’m not going to touch your cock. Not for a while, maybe not at all. It would distract you from what’s really important here. I wouldn’t want to make it harder for you to be good.” God, that made Enjolras feel selfish, but it also made his cock leak slowly, and that was the point, wasn’t it? 

“Please, sir,” Grantaire whimpered. Enjolras tightened his grip in Grantaire’s hair to a brutal degree. Then he pushed steadily, inexorably, into his boy’s mouth. In only a minute he reached the limit of what Grantaire could easily take, and he thrust in and out several times to enjoy the warm pressure. He moved faster, and Grantaire loosened his jaw to accept it. He moved harder, and Grantaire groaned and closed his eyes.

Then Enjolras pushed that limit, going beyond the loose wetness of his mouth into the tight heat of his throat. Grantaire jerked back suddenly as he gagged.

“Alright?” Enjolras asked. His role was instantly dropped with concern for his lover.

“Dusk, sir,” Grantaire coughed, but he didn’t release his own hands or move from his position on his knees. That obedience reassured Enjolras that he hadn’t gone entirely wrong. Perhaps he oughtn’t have choked Grantaire without warning him, or perhaps not at all. In any case, his own desire to do so had lessened sharply.

“Come on, boy,” he said, resuming his part. “Let’s see how good you can be when I allow you only your tongue.”

“Yes, sir,” said Grantaire. He allowed Enjolras to tug him by the hair, dragging his mouth along the shaft of his cock, sometimes lingering at the tip, sometimes keeping Grantaire’s head pressed to his hip so that he could only get at the base. All the while Grantaire licked fervently, doing his best to pleasure any part of Enjolras’ cock that he could reach. His desperate efforts to please were almost more arousing than the touch itself, making Enjolras tighten his grip further. At that point, it had to hurt, but Grantaire wasn’t complaining.

In fact, Grantaire seemed to be enjoying it all the more as a result of that pain. His eyes had gone wide and glassy, and he made soft sounds of pleasure with every rough nonverbal command.

It was a long time before Enjolras found the action more teasing than pleasurable, but eventually he was ready to move on to the rest of his plan.

“Get up, boy,” he snapped. He kept one hand tight on the back of Grantaire’s neck even as he obeyed. Grantaire whimpered as he was directed to the bedroom with the force of that assertive grip alone. When they were beside the bed, Enjolras shoved Grantaire hard and reveled in the way Grantaire let himself be moved into place on his back. “Stay there,” he instructed.

“Yes sir,” Grantaire replied. Enjolras kept half an eye on him as he pulled out two of their leather belts, soft with use but still strong. 

“Hands up,” said Enjolras, and Grantaire immediately reached up towards the headboard. Enjolras climbed on top of him and straddled his chest to bind his hands to the horizontal bar. The binding process took longer than it ought, because Enjolras was distracted by Grantaire’s half-conscious efforts to lean up far enough to get his mouth on Enjolras’ cock again, just out of his reach.

Once Grantaire’s hands were tied, Enjolras yanked roughly on his wrists to make sure the leather would hold. The sound Grantaire made in response— a soft one halfway between a moan and a whimper— was quickly becoming familiar.

“Good?” Enjolras asked, though at this point the question had more smugness than actual concern.

“Practically dawn, sir, oh please—“ Grantaire’s hips were thrusting fruitlessly against the air.

“I already told you I’m not going to touch you,” said Enjolras. Grantaire shook his head.

“No, sir, I don’t— I want to please you, let me, please, anything, let me please you…”

Enjolras felt dizzy with arousal, achingly hard and dripping onto Grantaire’s skin. He felt that he could do anything in that moment, and Grantaire would allow it. Grantaire would want it.

“Needy boy,” he said, and it very nearly came out a gasp. “I’m going to fuck you, take my pleasure from you, and you won’t even be able to touch me. Stay still, there’s a good boy.” There, that was more composed. Grantaire’s eyelids fluttered.

“Please, sir,” Grantaire said breathlessly. Enjolras climbed off of him and fished their bottle of oil out of the drawer. Then he stripped off what remained of their clothing and settled himself between his spread thighs. He took a moment to be gratified by the dark flush creeping down Grantaire’s heaving chest, the lower lip reddened and swollen from sucking, the pearl of precome forming at the head of his cock. Grantaire was beautiful like this, Enjolras thought, and ready for the taking. 

Immediately after this thought, he slid his first finger in without preamble. Grantaire whined in response.

“Look at you, eager to have anything inside you. Bit of a slut, aren’t you, boy? Spread your legs at the drop of a hat…” Enjolras hadn’t planned to say that, didn’t remember consciously deciding to do so, but Grantaire’s hips bucked immediately, and Enjolras himself was far from unaffected.

“Yes sir,” replied Grantaire, moaning at the stroke of that one finger inside him. Enjolras gasped and had to close his eyes for several long seconds.

“You take it so easily,” Enjolras continued, adding his second finger. “So easy for me, desperate boy. Would you do this for anyone? Anyone who’d have you?”

Hardly had the words left Enjolras’ mouth when Grantaire protested, “No sir! No, no, I wouldn’t. It’s just you, sir. I’m… I’m only a slut for you, sir.” At that, Enjolras thrust his fingers in harder, a reward. He scissored them in exactly the way Grantaire liked best. Grantaire’s muscles stretched readily, and he was soon open enough for much more than two fingers.

“Oh, my perfect boy,” Enjolras murmured. “So good for me. I’m going to take you now.”

And then without verbally checking if Grantaire was ready, without gentle touches or soft words, Enjolras slicked himself and thrust right in. Grantaire was hot and tight around him, tighter than usual, but the sound Grantaire released was all shocked pleasure and no pain.

And then, finally, with Grantaire bound and bared and desperate for anything at all, Enjolras let go of his reservations. He fucked Grantaire, hard, not holding anything back. Every movement was for his own pleasure, his own gratification, and it filled him with a hot powerful feeling. This boy was all his, so obedient and accepting, so willing to submit to Enjolras’ control.

“Sir—“ Grantaire gasped, arching off the bed and straining his wrists.

“What is it, boy?” Enjolras asked him harshly.

“I want to touch you, sir, please,” he begged. Enjolras waited several seconds before replying, allowing Grantaire to wind himself up with expectation.

“No,” said Enjolras. Grantaire keened desperately, another plea in its own right. “No, you’re going be a good boy and be still. You’ll stay where I put you and take what I give you.” Then, as an afterthought, Enjolras conceded, “You’re allowed to come if you can, though. Just don’t expect me to stop just because you’re done. I’ll use you as long as I like.”

“Yes sir.” It was more whine than words, all of Grantaire’s energy put into staying in place instead of bucking into Enjolras’ thrusts.

“This is for my pleasure, not yours,” Enjolras murmured, almost to himself. Then his eyes focused on Grantaire’s, screwed shut at the intensity of everything. “You’re enjoying it an awful lot though, boy. You take it like a whore.”

“Yes sir,” said Grantaire. He seemed to drink in Enjolras’ censure, returning it as quiet desperate sounds that only spurred Enjolras to move more forcefully.

A moment later, Grantaire's cock jerked against his stomach as he came all over himself with a cry. For several seconds Enjolras just stared at him in surprise. He hadn’t thought Grantaire actually could come without a touch.

Then he thrust in even harder, driving selfishly through Grantaire’s climax and into his own. Enjolras came hard enough to lose track of the world for several seconds afterwards. When he finally came down, he felt drained and satisfied, on the verge of falling asleep. He reached up to untie Grantaire’s hands, carefully rubbed blood back into them, wiped up the splattered come from his stomach, and collapsed beside him. 

Enjolras had nearly drifted off in his sated haze when he noticed the soft whimpering sounds coming from the man beside him. 

Instantly Enjolras was once again fully awake and aware, and terrified as well. Grantaire was whimpering— what had gone wrong? Had he hurt him? Surely he had not mistaken Grantaire’s enjoyment of their… deviant act?

But what if he had? He had made himself master of the situation, controlled it all— what if Grantaire had lost sight of the true Enjolras under the mask, and been unable to stop him? The idea made Enjolras feel sick and he had to swallow hard against the bile in his throat. Some of the things he had said and done were not fit for an actual whore, let alone for a lover. And Enjolras had desired them— he felt disgusted at himself— and Grantaire had been too afraid to stop them.

At the thought of Grantaire afraid, Enjolras’ reason finally reengaged. No, Grantaire had not seemed afraid at any point during their act. In fact, he had called dusk when Enjolras had choked him with his cock. 

Even so, Enjolras felt a twist of guilt knowing that even despite their careful discussion, he had still done something wrong. Had he done physical harm?

“Grantaire?” he whispered. The man beside him froze for a moment and then curled further into himself. His body was trembling.

“Yes sir?” answered Grantaire shakily. 

“Don’t call me that!” Enjolras snapped, terrified to think that Grantaire didn’t know it was over yet, was still expecting Enjolras to hurt and manipulate him.

“Sorry sir,” said Grantaire in a smaller voice, as though he had processed the tone of voice but not the words. Enjolras took deep calming breaths and then leaned over him.

“Would you please tell me what’s wrong,” he said. He didn’t stutter with anxiety, but it was a close thing.

“Cold, sir. And I— I d-don’t know, I’m—“ Grantaire’s voice was thick and he broke off in a quick, heavy breath. “P-please sir—“ he gasped, though he didn’t seem to know what he was asking for. Enjolras realized all at once that Grantaire was crying.

No. No. He had tried so hard, he had only wanted to be good to Grantaire, but here was proof that his own desires were too selfish, too destructive, to do anything but hurt the one he loved. Enjolras had to put a hand to his mouth to keep the bile down this time. Grantaire was crying because of him. He wanted badly to put his arms around Grantaire and comfort him, but what right did he have to touch Grantaire now, after how he had treated him?

Instead, Enjolras stayed firmly on his side of the bed, listening helplessly to Grantaire’s tears and trying hard to choke down his own.

 

Waking in the morning was the sole indication that Enjolras had fallen asleep at all. The crushing guilt and sick realization were just as powerful as they had been the night before. Grantaire was still restlessly asleep, so Enjolras began to inch his way out of bed, afraid to face him after what he had done.

“Ange?” came Grantaire’s sleepy voice, and Enjolras froze. He reminded himself that he was not a coward and then turned towards his lover. His former lover, perhaps. The thought made his heart rise into his throat and beat frantically.

“Grantaire,” said Enjolras softly. He didn’t know how even to begin to repair what he had done, but he would do his best. He didn’t want to lose Grantaire. “Please look at me, if you can.”

“Why wouldn’t I—“ Grantaire began, rolling over to face him.

“I’m so sorry,” Enjolras interrupted. “I cannot say it enough. I have little enough that I can give after that, but I swear to you, I will never, ever do that again.”

“Was— w-was I—“ Grantaire’s eyes had grown very large and very wet. “Was I bad?”

“What? Grantaire, no—“

“I tried so hard to be good, I tried so hard—“ Grantaire seemed to realize something, and he flinched and curled in on himself as though expecting a blow. “But I shouldn’t have asked for that at all. It’s disgusting, I’m disgusting, and you knew it, you must have, that’s why… why you couldn’t even touch me afterwards.” He gasped for air. “I shouldn’t have made you do that, I should leave…”

Grantaire sat up and shivered without the blankets. Enjolras had no idea how to describe what his heart was doing; he only knew that it hurt, and that it rebelled against the idea of Grantaire leaving. He acted on instinct alone.

“Grantaire, don’t go!” Enjolras said, nearly shouted. “Please don’t, you’re not— not disgusting, not at all, I don’t understand—“

“Enjolras…” Grantaire had frozen in place.

“I don’t want you to leave. I’ll apologize as much as you need me to.” Enjolras looked pleadingly at Grantaire, but Grantaire only looked confused.

“Enjolras, what did you do wrong?” 

As suddenly as it had the night before, Enjolras’ reason awoke all at once. They were having two different conversations, he realized. He was sure he should not have treated Grantaire as he had, but none of Grantaire’s complaint had been about the act itself.

“Grantaire, did you enjoy it? How we were last night?” Enjolras asked. He needed more information, needed certainty.

“Yes,” whispered Grantaire. His expression of shame was becoming all too familiar. 

“I did not harm you?”

“Not… not more than I wanted you to.”

“But after, I heard you crying.”

Grantaire ducked his head still further. “Yes.”

“Why?” Enjolras leaned in closer and put a hand on Grantaire’s arm, a reassurance that he was not disgusted with anything about Grantaire.

“I felt lost. I— I thought… I must have done badly for you. If you would not even—“

“Grantaire, you were perfect.” Enjolras cut him off sharply. He could not bear to hear Grantaire disparage himself any further. “You did everything I asked and more. You were so, so good, my love. I would have told you sooner, but I thought I had hurt you.”

“But everything you did was right,” Grantaire said, sounding confused again. The simple declaration was more reassuring to Enjolras than anything else could be, and at last he drew Grantaire into his arms.

“I know that now,” he said. “How much pain we would both have been spared, if only I had understood sooner. It seems we will both need assurance, after the act is over.”

“Will?” Grantaire looked up, cautiously hopeful. “Do you mean that we— that we might do this again?”

“No. I mean that we will do it better.” Enjolras looked down at him and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. “And we shall practice now. Come closer and I shall tell you exactly how good you were for me, my perfect, perfect boy.”

“Yes sir,” said Grantaire with a shiver.


End file.
